


Can I burn the mazes I grow?

by Finduilas



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek's Loft, First Time, M/M, that fucking bed in Derek's loft, when everything else seems like it's pulled out of the trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 18:13:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finduilas/pseuds/Finduilas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Siny: "I don't think you guys understand my need of seeing Derek buy that bed. Make his bed each day. Change the sheets!!! #feels"</p>
<p>Me: "OMG STAHP. What if Stiles bought the sheets though? 'cause Derek just had the mattress and Stiles was like, "You can't finally have a bed and no sheets!" and he goes out and buys it, and makes Derek's bed with them, and Derek LETS him!"</p>
<p>Siny: "you know what I'm going to say now, don't you?! :pp"</p>
<p>Or, the one where a twitter conversation about Derek's bed gives me plot bunnies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can I burn the mazes I grow?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [siny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siny/gifts).



> \- Huge thanks to Space for the quick beta!   
> \- Title from _Virgin State of Mind_ by K's Choice.

“Oh, now that is just sad,” Stiles says as he stands in front of the bed in the middle of the loft. 

“You tripped the alarm again,” Derek says with a scowl, turning off the noise. 

“You should really get a more sophisticated alarm,” Stiles muses, “One that doesn’t go off when it’s any of us coming in.” 

“ _Any of you_ ,” Derek stresses, repressing an eyeroll as Stiles actually leans down and presses on the mattress, as if to test how firm it is, “can turn on me just as easily. The alarm stays as it is.” 

Stiles tilts his head as he looks at Derek, “Really?” 

Derek just ignores him and picks up a bottle of water that’s standing on the coffee table – yes, he has a coffee table now – and takes a sip.

“You really believe that?” Stiles asks, and Derek thinks he can detect a hint of sadness, “’cause that’s just sad too.” 

“Too?” Derek asks, rising to the bait. 

“This!” Stiles says, waving an arm at the bed. “You have no mattress cover! No sheets! Not even a pillow. That’s just really sad, Derek.” 

“When did you become part of the Queer Eye team?” Derek huffs, taking in his bed. And there’s _nothing_ wrong with it. 

“Oh my God, seriously?” Stiles bursts out in laughter, “When was the last time you watched any TV? The nineties?” 

“The bed is fine,” Derek says, ignoring Stiles’ little outburst of giggles. 

“First of all, that’s not hygienic,” Stiles says, leaning over the bed again, and Derek is surprised he isn’t pressing his nose against the – bare – mattress and sniffing. “Secondly, you should strive for a bit more than ‘fine’.” 

“Is there an actual point to your visit?” Derek sighs. 

“Also, it’s not cool to make assumptions about my sexual orientation based on the fact that I want you to get sheets and pillows,” Stiles continues breezily, as if Derek never even spoke. 

“I didn’t,” Derek says without missing a beat. 

“What?” Stiles frowns at him. 

“Isaac told me you were bi,” Derek shrugs. 

“Oh,” Stiles says, momentarily stunned. “I guess I shouldn’t ask myself who told Isaac.” 

“Was it supposed to be a secret?” Derek asks, ‘cause Stiles is looking considerably flushed. 

“No, not really, just…” Stiles shrugs, his hands in his pockets. “Some people…” 

“Some people are idiots,” Derek says, cutting him off. “You won’t find those here.” 

Stiles nods, a relieved smile creeping over his face. 

“Thanks.” 

“Don’t thank me, it’s common sense,” Derek says. 

“You still need sheets,” Stiles says, clearly over whatever embarrassment he had. 

“Goodbye, Stiles,” Derek says as he deliberately turns his back on Stiles and wanders off into the kitchen. 

“And a bar!” Stiles calls out after him, “You should totally get a bar in this place!”

***

Derek starts as the alarm goes off, sitting up from where he was laying on the couch – he still feels weird at how comfortable it is – but sags back down when he hears that it’s Stiles. 

“Your alarm is going off again,” Stiles calls out from the hallway. 

“No shit!” Derek calls back over the blaring of the alarm as he gets up to turn it off. 

“Grumpy,” Stiles mumbles, but Derek hears him anyway. 

“You know it wouldn’t go off if you didn’t insist on dropping by unannounced all the time,” Derek sighs. 

“Give me a hand?” Stiles asks when he finally comes into view, almost buried underneath a pile of… 

“Are those pillows?” Derek frowns. 

“And sheets, and a comforter,” Stiles says as he drops half of his load into Derek’s arms. 

Derek is stunned into silence, wrapping his arms around the still vacuum-wrapped pillows as to not drop them. 

Stiles makes a beeline for the bed, with the rest of his fluffy cargo, and places it all on the floor. He immediately rips open a package and shakes it out over the bed. 

“A mattress-cover…” Derek mumbles in disbelief, shaking his head. 

“Much more hygienic,” Stiles nods, tucking the corners around the mattress before going over to the other side and doing the same. “Besides, is there a better feeling than crawling into bed between freshly washed sheets?” 

“I…” Derek says, still staring at Stiles. 

“Hand me one of those,” Stiles says, but he plucks one of the pillows out of Derek’s hands himself, tears open the package and fluffs it up before sticking it into a pillowcase. 

“Did you pay for all this?” Derek asks, as Stiles continues to make the bed – _his_ bed. 

“No, I shoplifted,” Stiles deadpans, and even though Stiles has his back towards Derek – fluffing up more pillows and arranging them at the head of the bed – Derek thinks it’s a fair guess Stiles is rolling his eyes at him. “I’m the Sheriff’s son, of course I paid!” 

“I can’t accept that,” Derek says firmly. 

“Consider it a housewarming gift,” Stiles shrugs. 

And Derek wonders how he got to the point of people buying him housewarming gifts. Or even the point of having an actual place that’s decent enough to warrant those things. 

“Isn’t this a nice color?” Stiles asks as he spreads out the wine-colored comforter over the bed.

“It’s…” Derek says, still staring at the bed that now looks like an _actual_ bed. “Is that satin?” 

Stiles grins as he flattens his hand over the side of the comforter, smoothing out the last wrinkles. He beams at Derek as he waves his hand at the now finished bed. “I told you you should strive for a bit more than ‘nice’.” 

Derek looks at the bed – the pillows neatly arranged against the headrest, the comforter smooth and inviting looking, a peek of fresh sheets underneath it – and wonders if this might be the most gratuitously nice thing anyone’s done for him since Laura died. Maybe even before that. 

“So I’m gonna take your stunned silence as a good thing,” Stiles says, balling up all the packaging material that’s strewn across the floor, “And not as a sign that you’re thinking of a plan to maim me for invading your personal space.” 

When Derek still says nothing, Stiles huffs out an insecure laugh. 

“Or maybe not…” Stiles says, awkwardly, his hands stilling on the plastic packaging. 

Derek shakes his head, opens his mouth to say something, but instead decides against it. He walks up to Stiles in one brisk movement, palms the sides of Stiles’ face and presses his lips down on Stiles’. There’s a horribly long second before Stiles actually reacts and Derek is just about to pull back and start apologizing when Stiles drops whatever he’s holding in his hands and just grabs Derek by the waist and starts kissing back. And yeah, Derek is quite sure this is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for him in a tremendously long time. 

***

“You do realize that now we’re going to have to wash these sheets already, right?” Derek asks, plopping his head back into one of the pillows as he closes his eyes and just enjoys the feel of the sheets surrounding him, the softness of the pillow, the way Stiles is squirming against him to find a comfortable place to come down from his high. 

“ _We_?” Stiles asks, his fingers absentmindedly tracing unreadable patterns on Derek’s chest. 

“You bought them for me,” Derek mutters contently, dropping a kiss against Stiles’ temple. “Besides, you got them dirty with me.” 

“Nice try,” Stiles says, and Derek can feel Stiles’ lips curl into a smile against his armpit. “I’m not doing your laundry.” 

Derek can’t help but smile, and he drapes his arms around Stiles’ frame. 

“Fine…” Derek mutters, stretching out a bit, his toes wriggling against the satin comforter. 

“What kind of a weirdo has a bed in the middle of his living room?” Stiles muses, resting his head against Derek’s shoulder. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Derek says, “The alarm warns us if someone is coming up.” 

“Right, _’intruder alert’_ ,” Stiles says in a strangled voice. 

“Come on,” Derek says, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder, leaning over and kissing him briefly. “I’ll show you the code to the alarm.” 

Stiles’ face lights up and he stares at Derek. “Really?” 

“Really,” Derek says, dropping one more kiss on Stiles’ lips before pulling him up, out from the comfort of the bed. 

Stiles hops behind him, hand firmly clasped in Derek’s, as Derek leads them to the box of the alarm – butt naked.


End file.
